


Evil Like Me

by orphan_account



Series: Drown the Sky (Eremin Mafia AU) [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mafia AU, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “So, are you letting me out of these any time soon?”Armin was calculating and ruthless, and he had seen his fair share of hostages throughout his life.He did not have time for one shithead to ruin his day.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager
Series: Drown the Sky (Eremin Mafia AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935685
Comments: 32
Kudos: 129





	Evil Like Me

“So, are you letting me out of these any time soon?” 

Across the table from his shackled hostage, Armin tried not to hold his head in his hands, wondering what he had done in a past life to warrant this level of bullshit from the universe. 

Armin Arlert was the favorite to lead the Scouts after Erwin Smith stepped down as the boss; Armin had risen through the ranks as an expert strategist and had proven himself countless times as one of the best interrogators in the group. 

Armin was calculating and ruthless, and he had seen his fair share of hostages throughout his life.

He did not have time for one shithead to ruin his day.

“Hello? Earth to the cutie?”

Tugging on his gloves, Armin fixed a cold glare on the man sitting bound across the metal table, willing himself not to let the heat creeping up his neck show on his face. As much as Armin hated to admit it, the other male was attractive. He had smooth, tan skin; long, dark hair; a defined jawline; and startlingly bright green eyes. 

In spite of the thick handcuffs sealing him to the chair, the hostage looked relatively unruffled, his black dress pants and shoes almost appearing pristine in the unforgiving light of the room. The collar of his crisp white shirt was in disarray, black suspenders slipping off his shoulders—the only articles of clothing that were out of place.

“You will speak only when spoken to,” Armin demanded, a steely edge to his voice. 

Armin glanced at the folder he had open in front of him. The hostage Reiner had brought in for him to investigate was listed as one Floch Forster, his position within the Jaeger group unknown. Intelligence had gathered that he was the one behind the attacks on their lower level bases that had left several of the Scouts’ high-ranking members severely injured. 

Perhaps as a result of being a member of a high-ranking group, he was the worst hostage Armin had ever had the pleasure of working with. 

Other hostages had been lower-ranking errand men from smaller groups, typically those that had little to no power in the underground, and succumbed quickly to his methods of persuasion. There was usually little left of them after Armin was done, but, arguably, there had been little of them to begin with.

This hostage, though, was different. 

The Jaeger group had evaded the Scouts’ operations for years, both rival factions in a turf war for control over the city of Paradis. Most operations against the Jaeger group left plenty of members injured or dead on both sides, and the Scouts had limited information on the other group, knowing only that it was led by Grisha Jaeger and his two sons, Zeke and Eren. 

From the moment Armin had arrived in the interrogation room, the dark-haired man had done nothing but spew snarky and flirtatious remarks, his face playful and body relaxed, despite being strapped down for torture and face partially scuffed from the struggle he had put up. 

Armin peered curiously over the assortment of devices laid out in a tray on the table, the steel of the knives, pliers, and scissors glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting. After contemplating what his next move would be, he settled on a pair of pliers, figuring he should start small.

“What’s your role in the Jaeger group?” Armin asked, tone neutral, as he twirled the pliers in his hands. 

The man leaned forward as much as his bonds would allow, a smirk winding across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Armin reached across the table and ran the pliers languidly over the other man’s fingers. “I very much would.”

Barking out a laugh that resounded throughout the otherwise empty room, the man leaned his head against the thick metal of his chair. “You are so cute,” he mused. “Maybe I’ll tell you; maybe I won’t.”

“It’s never a maybe with me,” Armin replied smoothly, strolling over to the man’s side and taking one of his hostage’s hands. “Your hands are lovely. I’d hate to ruin them.”

The hostage trailed one finger across Armin’s gloved knuckles, voice curling like smoke. “What if I told you that the name you have written over there in your pretty little file is wrong?”

Armin kept his expression perfectly calm, though an unfamiliar coil of fear gathered in his stomach. “And how would you know that?” 

The man’s mocking gaze drilled into Armin’s own. “I think you’re smart enough to know by now that I let your men get me.” 

Armin slid one of the man’s fingers into the claws of the pliers. “Is that what you’re telling yourself to feel better about all of this? Hm, maybe I won’t need to hurt you too much; you’re clearly already delusional.”

The man rolled his eyes and hummed, lips curled in disdain. “I’m not Floch or Samuel or whoever’s probably written in there.” 

Armin scoffed.

The man grinned, teeth gleaming sharply in the interrogation room’s severe light. “I’m Eren Jaeger.”

Armin’s heart dropped. Eren Jaeger, second son of Grisha Jaeger, was the second in command of the Jaeger group after Zeke. Now that Armin was looking closely, he could see the resemblance. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Armin hissed, grabbing Eren’s collar and yanking the other man forward, forcing him to contort his torso grotesquely, “But you’ve just told me that you’re more valuable than we first expected.”

Leering, Eren jerked out of Armin’s grasp. “Then you shouldn’t have let your guard down.” His shackles clattered on the ground, and, before Armin could even register it, Eren was out of his chair and pulling himself to his full height, towering over the slim man. 

“How about we make a deal,” Eren whispered, tilting his face downward to address Armin, breath tickling blond eyelashes. “Put me on a leash, pull out a couple of fingernails, whatever you need to do to make it look like you’ve gotten information from me. I don’t care. Just keep me around for a little, let me help you plan against the Jaeger group, and I promise I won’t kill you.”

Sweat trickled down Armin’s neck, his heart hammering in his chest, the chill of dread slithering through his veins. There should’ve been no conceivable way for Eren to have broken free from his handcuffs, not unless he had some prior knowledge of how the Scouts’ unique technology worked.

“I think you’re smart enough to know that I can’t and won’t do that,” Armin growled back, recovering quickly and reaching behind him for his gun holster.

The clank of a knife being taken from the table alerted Armin to how quickly the situation had fallen out of his favor.

Eren adjusted his suspender straps back onto his shoulders, rolling his neck in a display of confidence. “Oh? That’s a shame.”

In a flash, the warm press of Eren’s calloused fingers against his throat made all the muscles in Armin’s body tense up. 

Armin found that he couldn’t speak; the words would simply not come to him.

“I was looking forward to getting back at Zeke for being a backstabbing bitch,” Eren chuckled. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

Armin glared and bit his lip, a million possibilities running rampant in his mind. 

Eren could slit his throat the moment he took out his gun, and it was guaranteed that Eren’s reflexes were much faster than his own. 

If he died here, he’d die without having fulfilled his role, without ever extracting information from the first Jaeger hostage they’d ever captured. If he died here, Eren could easily run loose through their base, potentially devastating their operations and massacring their men.

If Armin died here, he’d die a failure. 

“Fine.” Armin tore himself from Eren’s grasp, stumbling back until he could see Eren in full. “We’ve got a deal.”

Eren’s answering smile was warm, genuine even, and Armin felt his traitorous heart skip a beat. 

Eren plopped back into his seat and crossed his legs, beckoning to Armin with a single finger. It was the easy, dangerous confidence of a panther stalking his territory, smooth and natural, slick and razor-sharp, ready to gut open its prey at a moment’s notice. And to think, Armin thought bitterly, that he’d been foolish enough to think he was in control. 

“Now,” drawled Eren, his smile widening alarmingly into a downright predatory smirk, “Why don’t you come over here and rough me up a little?”


End file.
